


kindred spirits

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24080839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Jon and Daisy, in repose.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, implied Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, implied Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 132





	kindred spirits

**Author's Note:**

> the canon divergence is that she's in the cabin with them you know?

“I did this.” Daisy's voice is quiet in his ear. 

Not so different from usual, Daisy's a quiet person in general, even when she's mad or scared or happy. But it's noticeable now, in the squall outside, the end of the world. And she has to be, the Eye inserts itself into their quiet moment and Jon makes a face he hopes she doesn't see in the dark, because she'd be dead if she was loud. 

She does notice, the fingers tracing the knife scar on his throat slowing until he shakes his head- 

“It wasn't you.” He clears his throat. “I mean- yes obviously it was you but just now- it's being annoying. It wasn't you. You can-” Keep going. Keep touching him. 

“What did it say?” They're on one of the spare mattresses, not in the bedroom, where Martin is sleeping, or trying to sleep, but in the living room, where the couch used to be before they barricaded the door with it. Daisy is on her side, pressed up against him, fingers hovering now, waiting. He's on his back, staring at the rotting ceiling. 

“Nothing important.” 

“Important enough to interrupt.” 

“Rarely has it said anything worth listening too.” His left arm settles on her side. “Keep-” He swallows. “Keep going.” 

“Yeah?” Her fingers rest on his throat, thumb brushing down from his chin until it gets to the raised silvery skin of the knife wound and where it had dug into his throat. A few millimeters further and she would have cut into his carotid artery. It would have been a gore show, the Eye chirps, she would have been covered in him. 

“You almost killed me.” 

“Yeah I did.” She says with a hint of what might be pride. “Glad I didn't.” 

“You do have very impressive self control.” 

Her hands are warm- she's usually at least a little warmer than him, but it feels nice on his neck, even if her feather light touch is ticklish. 

“I can't believe this is my fault.” She sighs, her chin digging into his shoulder. 

“If it wasn't you it would have been the other two.” He's long since learned to keep their names out of his mouth. She rarely gets angry, murderous, but there's an exception to every rule. “I'm glad it was you.” 

“You're glad I had a knife to your throat?” 

“Melanie stabbed me. It's basically a work qualification.” She laughs lightly. “Turn in your cv, stab your boss, submit yourself to a dread power.” 

“All in a day's work.” Her fingers stop again, “How are the benefits.” 

“There's this great vacation package.” Keep going, he wants to say, again, but that's needy and desperate and. And. And the world ended. Maybe he could be a little needy and desperate. “Can you keep doing that?” 

“Nice?” She asks, and does, like soothing a sore muscle. Maybe a little gentler than that, not quiet crushing his windpipe yet. 

“Yes.” 

“Basira used to pet my hair.” Jon closes his eyes. It's easy to imagine it- well. Easy to see it. “She did it when she thought I was sleeping on the job. I didn't- I don't need to tell you details.” 

“I don't mind.” 

“I didn't sleep on a job, ever. I barely slept at all back then.” 

“Too much adrenaline.” 

“Always.” Her hand shifts again- no all of her shifts this time, “The only time I'd ever sleep was when my body would give out and I'd crash. But sometimes, you lay your head flat on your desk- people just assume.” 

“Police coworkers sound like a nightmare.” 

“Most of the sectioned folks were too shell shocked to be annoying or alpha or whatever.” 

“Not Basira- Not you.” 

“I was the thing they were scared off- one of them. Basira probably could have been better anywhere else.” No she wouldn't have. She was exactly where she needed to be. “Anyway-” 

“Anyway.” 

“Anyway- She'd walk over to my desk, read her files, set her tea on my paperwork and pet my hair.” 

She used to wear it longer, Jon remembers, from when she incidentally almost slit his throat. But then the coffin happened and Daisy asked Jon to cut it for her one day, in between statements. Jon's own hair was growing out- about as long as Daisy's used to be. 

“You miss her.” He says, because it's an obvious thing. 

“She's going to be mad, that I'm here with you of all people.” 

“Well.” He can't blame her, really. “It's your safe house. Where else were you supposed to go?” 

“She won't say anything, but she'll still be mad. I would be mad, if I was in her place.” 

“She doesn't like me.” 

“She does not.” And the Daisy flicks his ear like they're children. “Can you blame her?” 

“Hardly.” 

He opens his eyes at almost the exact time Daisy's hand settles on his face, flat across this nose and eyes. 

“Your eyelashes tickle.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I don't know.” She says. “Touching you.” 

“Don't make it sound illicit.” He thinks about Martin again, on his stomach with the blanket around his knees. At the way his hair curls on the nape of his neck. 

“It's what I'm doing.” Jon lifts the hand on her side, bent awkwardly at the elbow, and presses his palm against her face. “We just going to stay like this?” 

“If you have something better planned, by all means.” 

“No- No. This is nice.” 

Yeah, it is. 

An acceptable pressure. He can feel her smile against his hand, and it's not like Jon can keep the grin off of his face either. He doesn't know how long they stay like that until they hear the door to the bedroom open and dissolve into laughter. 

Four hours, the Eye tells him. 

Sounds about right. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments always very very appreciated
> 
> find me on[ tumblr ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/miurmiurmiur)


End file.
